


Like real people do

by Anonymous



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV) RPF
Genre: M/M, Pedrigo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:22:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29588556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Relationships: Rodrigo de la Serna/Pedro Alonso
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5
Collections: Anonymous





	Like real people do

**The first time**

“You think Martin would give up that easily?”

Pedro looks at him with a puzzled expression from his place on the couch, the glass of wine swaying in his hand. Rodrigo continues:

“Do you think that if Andres did that speech about how there’s something extraordinary between them, but that he listens to his brother and says goodbye to Martin, Martin would be like okay, I get that, I will never contact you again? It doesn’t sit right with me. Martin loves him too much.”

Pedro sits up properly and puts down his glass. 

“What are you suggesting?”

“Andres is the type of guy to use his sexuality as an excuse to leave. Imagine if he told Martin that he’s aware of his feelings and that he should finally let go.“

Pedro gets up, looking delightfully intrigued.

“He would tell Martin how much he loves him, only to let him know that he is heterosexual and it won’t work out between them.”

“Exactly, he’s that much of an asshole.”

Rodrigo sees it in the eyes of Pedro, how easily he becomes Andres. He approaches Rodrigo.

“Martin, we’re soulmates, but only 99 percent. I like women, and you like me too much.”

Rodrigo feels the excitement prickle inside him, the way he always does when he’s coming up with an idea when he slowly changes his mindset according to the role he’s playing and starts feeling Martin’s emotions. 

“Martin would definitely insist on proving him wrong. He knows Andres is about to leave, so he’ll throw everything out the window just to have this one last chance with him.”

He approaches Pedro and looks for the right words.

“And what’s that one percent against 99, unless you’re not brave enough to try it?”

Yes, that’s good. 

“That one percent is a tiny mitochondrion, but it defines my desire.”

“Mitochondrion my ass. Where’s the desire?”

He’s now standing inches away from Pedro, tracing his fingers along with his temples, down his cheeks.

“Here?”

Pedro tilts his head a little back and smiles, looking at him with lidded eyes. Rodrigo can feel Martin, how he becomes braver, seeing the insecurity on Andres’ face, even though trying to hide it. He grabs the back of Pedro’s head gently, holding him in place.

“Relax.”

And Pedro relaxes in his hands when he nuzzles the hair on his neck.

He makes a quick decision and goes for a kiss. Pedro stands still, he lets him do it, but he doesn’t respond to the kiss, so he tries again, insistent on provoking a reaction from him.

Suddenly there’s a change in the air between them, like a spark, making Rodrigo draw back. Something is burning in Pedro’s eyes when he walks towards Rodrigo, making him take several steps back until he hits the wall. 

And he kisses him. No, he devours him, mouth fully open against his. 

Rodrigo doesn’t have to think twice before he engages in the kiss, and the scary thing is that he feels like he’s slipped out of his role as Martin somewhere along his way to the wall. He’s no longer thinking about what Martin would do, he’s just— doing it. Kissing Pedro back, moaning loudly into his mouth, holding him as close as possible.

He doesn’t know the plan, but they don’t stop kissing, and their hands start roaming each other’s bodies. 

When he presses himself against Pedro with his erection violently straining against his pants, something seems to click inside his head. 

He pushes at Pedro’s shoulder, making him break the kiss and step back. Rodrigo’s arousal is way too obvious, the way he’s panting and flushed, but Pedro looks so calm, making him wonder if he’s still in character. 

Rodrigo clears his throat.

“What uh— What happens after the kiss?”

Pedro straightens his suit.

“Listen, Martin. I’d give anything to feel this, but it’s impossible. I love you, but my brother is right.”

The way Rodrigo feels, still leaning against that wall, all cold and left alone, is perfect for the scene. 

“That could work,” he admits, while Pedro turns around and heads back to his wine. He looks so composed, making Rodrigo feel all weird for being this affected. “I think I’ll head to bed, then, and be ready for shooting tomorrow.”

He still feels off when he calls his wife to say good night. Even more when his erection refuses to go away because the kiss keeps playing inside his head, and he refuses to do something about it because that would be even weirder.

The following morning at breakfast with the rest of the crew, both of their smiles are a little forced, telling Rodrigo that he isn’t the only one who thought about last night.

When the moment arrives, where they’re going to shoot the scene, he even finds himself a little nervous. There’s this tiny bit of awkwardness that just refuses to leave. Luckily, Pedro is— yeah, he’s amazing at making Rodrigo feel comfortable, and when they start filming, everything is forgotten.

When Rodrigo asks this time “Where’s your desire?” he isn’t sure if he’s asking Andres or Pedro.

When he’s backed against that cold stone wall with Pedro kissing him fervently, they’re alone. It’s just them, their heavy breathing and small moans. 

When the director yells “cut” Rodrigo startles, blinking against the sharp lights, realizing they were not alone.

“Good job,” Pedro says to him, squeezing his shoulder, and it takes him a while to remember that oh yes, he was acting. At least he should be.

After dinner with the crew, everyone ends up in the bar at the hotel, too tired to actually go out for drinks. 

Rodrigo catches himself stealing glances at Pedro all the time without knowing exactly why. It becomes even worse the more alcohol he gets, and he wonders if it’s obvious to everyone else. He surely doesn’t hope so. 

It’s like Pedro has awakened something in him during the kiss scene, something he didn’t know was there. Frankly, he is in no urge to try to decipher it, but it’s very much there, and he wonders if he’s the only one feeling it. He meets Pedro’s eyes once in a while, but they’re not giving anything away.

When the last person separating them leaves for their own room, Pedro raises his glass at Rodrigo. He mirrors the motion.

“We should grab a bottle of wine and go to my room,” Pedro suggests. And despite the voice in the back of Rodrigo’s head shouting no, he ends up nodding, because he’ll have to figure out what this is about.

And everything is fine, just like it used to be, until Rodrigo accidentally calls Pedro Andres, and they both laugh too hard. Until Pedro jokingly tells him to watch out or he’s going to kiss him. Until he approaches Pedro with a playful smirk, tracing his jaw with his finger and asking him where his desire is. 

Suddenly there’s all this tension between them, Rodrigo feels it instantly, his arm falls to his side. He’s thinking that he fucked up, he’s drunk, he’s pissed Pedro off because he’s looking at him with dark eyes. 

“My desire,” Pedro says, his voice raspy. “Do you really want to know?”

Rodrigo can only gulp in response, he might move his head in some kind of nodding motion, and there’s the wall against his back. 

They stare in each other’s eyes for quite long, none of them speaking, but Pedro’s hand is grabbing Rodrigo’s collar like he’s threatening him, like he’s going to beat him up. But he isn’t.

They’re breathing loudly, the air seems harder to inhale than normally.

He isn’t sure who initiates it, but their lips are crashing together soon after, and his head is spinning. 

He isn’t aware of his hands until he realizes that one of them is grabbing Pedro’s hair, and the other one is located at Pedro’s ass. There’s this desire burning inside him, the same flame that Pedro lit yesterday in the hotel room, just ten times brighter because now they’re not acting, not rehearsing, just— kissing. Moaning. Touching each other.

Pedro pulls back for a second to search Rodrigo’s face like he’s afraid that he doesn’t like it, which is stupid because his body is pretty much giving him away. 

When he doesn’t find any signs to stop, he continues, this time with his hand between their bodies, rubbing the bulge in Rodrigo’s pants. It’s embarrassing how he reacts to the touch, really, pressing into his hand, dick twitching and growing even harder. 

Their faces pull apart to gasp for air, and Rodrigo takes the chance to palm Pedro too, making him almost growl in the back of his throat. 

It all feels so urgent.

He has no idea why he responds like this to Pedro, who is very much a man, but he can’t seem to care when he hurriedly unzips Pedro’s pants and pulls out his dick. For a moment he’s afraid that Pedro will tell him to stop, that he was only joking, but that’s just until he wraps his hands around the dick and Pedro almost hisses from pleasure. 

“Wait—“ he says in a low voice and opens Rodrigo’s pants too, holding his dick and almost making his knees give in under him. Pedro looks between Rodrigo’s legs, he just looks, and a tiny flicker of insecurity creeps up on him.

“What are we doing?” Rodrigo all but whispers, but Pedro starts moving his hand and Rodrigo no longer cares what they’re doing, he just wants him to continue. His head falls back and hits the wall with a thump. 

When he starts stroking, Pedro braces himself against the wall with a hand next to Rodrigo’s head. 

It feels so utterly forbidden, wrong, and amazingly good. The two of them in a hotel room, maybe a little drunk, but nevertheless very aware of what they’re doing.

When Rodrigo finally dares to open his eyes, he finds Pedro staring at him through heavy-lidded eyes, head slightly tilted back and lips parted to breathe heavily, and that’s— 

“Oh, s-shit—” Rodrigo stutters when he’s surprised by his own orgasm, spilling on Pedro’s suit. Pedro follows him close.

Then it’s over. The magic is broken when they let go of each other and there’s a tiny, awkward moment before Pedro walks to the bathroom. They walk past each other without eye-contact when Pedro comes back out and Rodrigo goes to get cleaned up. 

When he’s done, Pedro is sitting with his back to Rodrigo, who stops in his tracks. What’s the procedure? He feels like a teenager with his hands in his pockets, afraid of breaking something if he says the wrong thing. 

“I’ll uh— go back to my room.”

That seems like the right thing to do, though he’s not sure if it’s what he wants to do.

The following day the guilt starts to kick in because after all, he has a wife and kids waiting for him at home, but he manages to keep it at bay. It’s nothing. It was all because of the kiss in the show, they got a little too enthusiastic, and a little drunk. It was nothing. 

When they part, not sure when they’re going to see each other again, the air feels heavier than it should. 

Rodrigo is ready for a quick hug, not too much touching, not too much thinking. But when Pedro is in his arms, he can’t help but practically cling to him for a moment. He is going to miss this man, more than he wants to admit, and the thought forms a lump in his throat. He doesn’t dare to speak, afraid that his voice will expose him, but gives Pedro a weak smile. 

His brown eyes seem to see right through him.

**The second time**

When they finally see each other again for the press tour, a couple of butterflies appear in Rodrigo’s stomach at the sight of Pedro. 

It’s been about a month, and he had just stopped thinking of Pedro every single day. It’s not like he’s been on his mind constantly, but at least once a day he crossed his mind and he wondered what he was doing. If he should text him or call him. But they never really kept in contact between filming, so it would seem weird if he started now. 

But he wanted to.

Now he’s finally looking into those brown eyes again, and Pedro hugs him like they’ve been separated for years. Just as he doesn’t think he can be happier, Pedro whispers an “I’ve missed you” right next to his ear, and his own “I’ve missed you too” gets stuck in his throat.

It’s a long and exhausting day of interviews, but he and Pedro are being interviewed together, so it’s not too bad. When they come back to the hotel in the evening, after having dinner, none of the crew are up for any fun, and everyone goes to their rooms.

An hour later, Rodrigo is relaxing on his bed and watching television after a hot shower, when his phone vibrates. It’s a text from Pedro.

“I have a nice bottle of wine. Wanna help me drink it?”

Rodrigo has never been more tired in his life, but that doesn’t matter anymore. 

“Sure.”

He puts on his jeans.

“Room 211.”

Pedro’s hair is wet, too, when he opens the door, and he looks as tired as Rodrigo feels.

There are two glasses of red wine on the table, making Rodrigo wonder if he poured them before he even sent the text. Not that it matters. 

“God, are you as exhausted as I am?” Pedro asks. 

“I think so.”

They’re sitting close on the couch, arms practically pressed against each other’s, but it feels just right. They’re talking about everything and nothing, about the interviews, the weather, the rest of the crew, but none of it matters. They’re finally together. 

When the bottle is empty, they move to the bed to watch some television. They’re both propped up against the headboard, but it doesn’t take long before Rodrigo lies down. He’s tired, yes, but he’s sure he can keep his eyes open. 

Turns out he can’t. 

He wakes up in the morning with his arms around Pedro. 

It feels nice and safe until he realizes what he’s doing and the panic creeps up on him. He doesn’t dare to move, afraid to wake Pedro, but at the same time, he needs to let go before he wakes up. He’s frozen in place. 

When Pedro starts moving and making noises, Rodrigo decides to just pretend he’s sleeping. It won’t be quite as awkward, and Pedro will have the chance to move away and they’ll never talk about it again.

Except that’s not what happens. 

Instead, Pedro starts caressing the arm draped around his chest, and it’s almost like he doesn’t want it to move away.

Rodrigo makes the mistake of moving slightly, and Pedro asks.

“Are you awake?”

He waits a couple of seconds before he answers.

“Yeah.”

Then Pedro turns around, making sure Rodrigo’s arm stays around him. For some reason, he’s still afraid of moving.

Pedro looks at him, studies his face, tracing it with his fingers and it feels way too intimate for whatever they are.

Then they start kissing. Again. 

“I’ve missed you so fucking much, Rodrigo. I don’t know what to do.”

His voice is so soft and vulnerable. 

“Me neither.”

They soon end up entangled in each other, and when Pedro’s hand reaches for the zipper of Rodrigo’s jeans, he breaks the kiss.

“We shouldn’t do this.” 

“I know,” Pedro answers and seems to consider it for a bit. But it’s too late, they both know it, and sure enough, Pedro ends up unzipping both of their pants. 

Both of their dicks end up in Pedro’s hand, pressed tightly together, and this is it. There’s no way Rodrigo can imagine that he’s not with a man, with another dick pulsing against his own, and it’s ridiculously hot. 

They end up making a mess on the hotel bed, and when it’s over, Rodrigo rolls to his back. He’s too tired to move, and he doesn’t want it to be as awkward as last time. Also, he doesn’t want to be alone. 

Pedro attempts to clean up after them and lays down next to Rodrigo.

Rodrigo wants to ask him what the fuck they’re doing, but he’s afraid that it will end if they start discussing it. At the same time, he’s never been this confused in his entire life. It was fine after a month when they didn’t see each other, but right here and now, in his post-orgasm haze, all the feelings start bubbling under the surface. The feelings that absolutely aren’t allowed to be there. 

He would maybe be able to accept the fact that he was attracted to another man, but this is something more than that. 

“Pedro. I don’t—”

He isn’t sure what he was meaning to say.

“I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I don’t think we should be doing this.”

“I don’t want this to stop.”

All of those possibilities seem to fit.

He ends up sighing. 

“I know, it’s—”

Pedro doesn’t finish his sentence either, and Rodrigo can’t help but let out a small laugh. They’re grown-ass men, and this shouldn’t be so difficult. But it is, apparently, and Rodrigo’s relieved it’s not only for him. 

**The third time**

He doesn’t hear from Pedro in the next four months, and it’s— 

It’s good, because he’s struggling to make him stay out of his head, and talking to him probably wouldn’t help. He’s struggling not to let it interfere too much with his life, with his family. He was feeling off for the first couple of weeks after their last encounter, and his wife started picking up on it. He made excuses and got himself together.

But he’s not okay. This isn’t just a fling, something that happened and will be forgotten. It’s a crush, if not even more than that. 

And he needs it to go away.

But when he finds himself in Spain, shooting for his new movie, he can’t help himself. He’s alone in his hotel room, and everything he can think of is how much nicer it would be if Pedro was there with him.

And he’s so close.

So he calls him.

“Hey.”

“Hi, it’s uh— it’s me, Rodrigo.”

“Rodrigo,” Pedro says in a cheerful voice. “What are you up to?”

“I’m in Spain.” And because he’s not sure Pedro will get the hint, he adds: “Not far from where you live.”

Pedro doesn’t speak for a second, then he says:

“Is this a booty call?”

“Shut up,” Rodrigo answers, but a smile spreads on his face. 

“What’s the name of your hotel?”

“I’m glad you called.”

Pedro’s brought a bottle of wine. They’re not even halfway through it before Rodrigo is straddling Pedro, sitting on the edge of the bed. At least they’re not pretending anymore, which is nice, but it’s also a warning that they absolutely should stop this.

But it feels so good when he pushes Pedro down on the bed and their bodies are pressed together, finally. After all this time. Rodrigo has spent so much energy trying to suppress that need, and with Pedro’s hot mouth on his, he’s finally able to relax. To let go.

They kiss for a long time, and Rodrigo’s satisfied with just holding Pedro in his arms, their hands caressing each other’s bodies. 

But all of a sudden Pedro starts kissing his neck instead, making Rodrigo squirm under him, desperate for something more. Pedro seems to quickly become desperate, too, with Rodrigo’s hands all over him.

Pedro pulls down Rodrigo’s pants and turns him to his side, facing away from him. Rodrigo doesn’t quite understand what’s happening, his mind cloudy with his desire, before he feels Pedro’s hot dick between his thighs. He doesn’t mean to moan so loudly, because it’s nothing, but it feels like everything when Pedro presses his body to Rodrigo’s back. The contact between their skin is burning, and Pedro’s fingers are soon around Rodrigo’s dick. 

He’s going tantalizingly slow, both with his hand and his own dick. None of them wants it to be over. 

But soon Pedro starts moving faster, thrusting between Rodrigo’s thighs, and his hand picks up the pace, too. Rodrigo starts imagining things that he shouldn’t be imagining, making him moan a “fuck, Pedro”, right before he spills on the bed. 

Pedro’s movements soon become erratic, and the twitching of his dick and the hot come between Rodrigo’s thighs is almost enough to make him hard again.

They shower separately, and Rodrigo isn’t sure what the next step is. 

He watches from his bed in the darkness when Pedro steps out from the bathroom wearing only his briefs, fiddling with his pants in his hands, ready to put them on. The thing is, he doesn’t know when, if, they’re going to see each other again. He is in no way ready for Pedro to leave, but he can’t say anything. 

“Can I stay?”

Hearing those words from Pedro sends a feeling of relief through him, and at his “of course,” Pedro drops his pants to the floor and gets in the bed.

They spend the night in each other’s arms. 

When Rodrigo wakes up, Pedro isn’t in the room. He puts on his clothes and tries to ignore the disappointment creeping up on him. 

A few minutes later the door opens, and there’s Pedro with their breakfast.

“I thought you left,” it flies out of Rodrigo’s mouth.

“I would never leave without at least saying goodbye. How long before you have to leave?”

“A couple of hours.”

It’s no longer awkward between them, in fact, it feels like they both accepted what happened, acknowledged that there’s something between them. 

And it has to stop because it’s already getting out of hand.

**(Not) the fourth time**

This time it’s even harder being away from Pedro.

Rodrigo’s mood is shit for the first month, he isn’t able to concentrate on anything, especially not his relationship. He feels like she knows everything, he tries to overcompensate, but it probably makes her even more suspicious. He’s irritated and snappy and definitely not the best father to his kids. 

It gets better. 

After a couple of months, he’s no longer thinking about Pedro all the time. He’s stopped fiddling with his phone every evening, wondering if he should call or text. It feels weird not knowing what he’s up to. 

It feels weird not knowing if they’re ever going to see each other again. 

But it is, without a doubt, for the best. Because he can’t keep doing this, he just can’t keep having this secret, and if he wants to continue whatever it was between them, he knows what has to be done. 

And he can’t risk everything because of— because of another man. He can’t give up his life, his family, practically everything he’s got, just because he shared a couple of intimate moments with Pedro.

It’s not that Pedro isn’t an amazing person, but Rodrigo loves his wife and his kids. Who knows what would happen if he left them? Pedro has a family, too, and he doesn’t want to destroy everything for everyone.

All those rational thoughts don't keep his heart from jumping in excitement when Pedro’s number shows on his screen after half a year.

“Hi, Pedro.”

“Hey. How are you?”

Rodrigo isn’t sure what the right answer to this question is.

“I’m— better.”

At least that’s true. It holds a lot of information, and he can’t know if Pedro picks up on it or not.

“That’s good.”

There’s an awkward pause in their conversation. Rodrigo’s biting his lip, not ready for what comes next.

“I’m traveling through Argentina for my next movie, and I was just wondering if uh—” he pauses, seemingly not sure if he should ask or not “—if I should stop by.”

Rodrigo takes a deep breath. Then he takes one more. His nails are scratching against the fabric of his jeans when he speaks.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

His face contorts because he wants to say something else instead, and he has to physically hold back his words by gritting his teeth. 

“Yeah. I thought so.”

He hears Pedro exhale.

“I’m sorry, Pedro,” he says in a shaky voice. Because he is sorry. He’s sorry he let it go this far, he’s sorry because he wants to see Pedro again, and he’s sorry for turning him down. 

“Don’t worry.”

There’s a tight, burning feeling in his throat, and he has to take another deep breath to make it subside enough to break the silence again.

“Take care, okay?”

He can only pray that Pedro knows how much weight there is behind those words.

“You too, Rodri.”

When the phone beeps, he clutches it in his hands and keeps swallowing around the burning lump. 

He’s going to make it. He has to because it’s the only right thing to do.


End file.
